We had become, by this time, exceedingly conscious of the change of climate, which had occurred even since the morning, and much more so since we left the Belka. The gorges had been hot and close, the sands of the plain seemed to radiate heat, and the level rays of the sun, as we rode westward, produced towards evening, that sense of brain fatigue indescribable to those who do not know their effect in an Oriental climate—to many far more exhausting than the direct heat and glare of midday. The moment, however, that the great god sank to rest behind the hills of Judæa, we luxuriated to the full in the wonderful beauty of the brief twilight. Away to the east, almost without our perceiving it, the purple hills arose once more to shut out from us that enchanted world of which we had taken one brief glimpse. A distant flame, lurid against the pearly sky, showed us that the charcoal-burners were still at work. Wreaths of white mist lay in the hollows of the mountains; while the clear mirror of the Dead Sea, stretching far as the eye could reach, reflected the hills of Judæa, dark masses, looking across the wide plain to the evening glow beyond. A single line, standing up like a needle against the west, showed us the Russian tower on the Mount of Olives, reminder of all that world of politics, and rivalry, and ambition, of which for a few days we had so gladly lost sight. Even our old friend the jujube-tree, _zizyphus_, was here again, reminding us that we were once more in subtropical surroundings, and several times we had to stoop to the horses' necks to avoid its unwelcome embraces.
It was some hours since we had met with anything human; but, as the darkness gathered, the glare of camp fires broke out here and there, among the bushes, and, far away, the lights of Jericho seemed to beckon us to the repose we were beginning to need. Suddenly we came upon a weird scene—an assembly of the black tents of the Bedu, a bright fire in the midst. Quite a large number of men were gathered about the flaming pile, some preparing supper, others tending the animals—horses, asses, camels—tethered beside the tents or left free to wander in search of food among the undergrowth of scrub. "Waiting to cross the Jordan Bridge," it was whispered among us, together with a warning that we must approach this Rubicon as silently as possible, lest we should provoke the jealousy and rivalry of others less fortunate than ourselves, and cause superfluous discussion, and delay—for even those who had fulfilled the necessary conditions of a now practically unlimited quarantine, might not cross the river after sunset.